Little Star
by GreenSage
Summary: Glorfindel of Imladris finds he must wear a title he never expected to need again, and he takes on a role he never thought he’d play in the first place.
1. Author's notes and translations

Title: Little Star

Author: Sage

Archive: my site eventually, ff.net.  All others, please ask first.

Fandom: Lord of the Rings

Category: Alternate Universe, Fluff

Rating: G

Warnings: wee!elf fic.  Those who do not like children are advised to turn back now.

Series: Yes, series is planned, stories #2 and #3 in the works

Summary: Glorfindel finds he must wear a title he never expected to need again, and takes on a role he never thought he'd play in the first place.

Notes: This fic is all Sheltie's fault.  She's the one that got me started reading some really good wee!elf fic, and then we got into a discussion about Glorfindel and elflings and....well.  Here's the result.  Also, this series is headed in a slashy direction.  Not for several more stories yet, mind you, but that's where it will eventually end up.  Caveat lector.

Feedback: is like oxygen; I'll take anything. 

Disclaimers: Not mine. No money.  Promise to put them back when I'm done. To quote another author's LotR disclaimer (and if anyone knows who this is, kindly tell me who and I'll ask for permission), "J.R.R. Tolkien is god, and Peter Jackson is his prophet."  Any characters not from the books are my own creation (Eledril, Narfaron, Héthien, Galiel, etc.); please don't use any of them without my express permission.

Setting: Imladris, Third Age, before the birth of Arwen.  Eledril is four, which I am arbitrarily defining as the equivalent of two years for a human.

Text in Sindarin is italicized.  Words meant to be emphasized are underlined.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bits of Sindarin (Elvish) I've used:

_Nana/Naneth_ - Mommy/Mother

_Ada/Adar_ – Daddy/Father

_Yrch_ - Orcs

_Tithen pen_ - Little one

_Gwador_ - Brother, especially a sword-brother

_Hîr-nín_ - My lord

_Anor_ - Sun

_Ithil_ - Moon

_Pen-neth_ - Young one

_Hervenn_ – Husband

_Meldir – _Friend

_Ormenel, nelchaenen ned Narbeleth _– Day of Heavens, the thirtieth of October

~~~~~~~~~~


	2. An Unexpected Surprise

Headers, author's notes, disclaimers, and translations may be found in chapter 1.

*****

"Ai!  Not so fast, you mean thing," Glorfindel admonished.

Elrond, Lord of Imladris and sometime Herald of the High King, rolled his eyes and silently begged the Valar for patience.  

The warriors of Imladris had sallied forth some days earlier to rid the western reaches of Elrond's lands of an orc infestation.  They had, sadly, arrived too late to save some of the Elvish hamlets there, but had gathered up what survivors remained and fought to cleanse the land of the evil creatures.

At Elrond's side, as ever, rode his second, one Glorfindel of Gondolin, slayer of Balrogs, liver of two lives, and consummate warrior.  On this particular day, however, Glorfindel had been rather less than his usual adept self as he attempted to intercept a blow from an orcish mace aimed at his liege lord.  Elrond escaped unscathed, but Glorfindel had not been so lucky.  The blow caught him off balance and knocked him from his horse.  So it was that Elrond found himself occupied with dragging his injured friend off the field of battle once the orcs appeared to be routed and retreating.  The two warriors staggered clumsily toward an abandoned Elvish house, where the Lord of Imladris could better examine his seneschal.

"Stop fighting me, you overgrown oaf," Elrond hissed, in no mood to cosset Glorfindel's bruised ego.

Glorfindel grumbled wordlessly, but grudgingly stopped trying to move without assistance.

They finally managed to negotiate the open front door of the single-story structure, and Elrond maneuvered his friend through the chaos of the ransacked common room to a relatively whole couch.

Glorfindel collapsed onto the settee with an ill-concealed sigh of relief.

"Alright then," Elrond panted, "where do you hurt?"

"My leg, mostly," Glorfindel admitted.  "My shoulder is sore, as well, but I believe it to be bruised only."

Elrond nodded.  "Very well, easy wounds first, so long as you keep that leg immobile for now.  Let's see your shoulder."

Glorfindel assisted the Elf-Lord in shifting armor and tunics to reveal the shoulder in question.  Elrond poked and prodded for a moment, eliciting a yelp and glower from his reluctant patient.

"You are right about the shoulder," Elrond pronounced.  "It is bruised, but will heal quickly."

"Should've listened to me instead of poking me in my bruised shoulder," Glorfindel grumbled uncharitably.  "I am a good deal older than you, and I know what a bruise feels like."

Elrond rolled his eyes and did not deign to comment.  He turned his attention to Glorfindel's injured leg, slitting the leather leggings with his dagger when it became apparent that a more conventional removal would be too painful for the other elf.  He grasped Glorfindel's thigh gingerly and was rewarded with an outraged roar.

"Well, you've really done it this time," Elrond said with a heavy sigh.  "You, my splendid friend, have a broken leg."

Glorfindel groaned and dropped his head back against the couch.  "Please, tell me you jest."

"Nay," Elrond chuckled.  "I am sorry, but the bone is split.  'Tis a clean break, though, and I forsee no serious difficulty in healing it.  If_,_ that is, you stay off it for the next few days."

Glorfindel growled in frustration and struck out with one mailed fist, demolishing an already-damaged table with a resounding crash.

Both elves were startled to hear a noise from the house's kitchen.

Elrond crept quickly forward on silent feet, sword held at the ready.  He motioned for Glorfindel to be silent when the injured elf started muttering about how only Elrond would manage to find the one house with an orc still in it.

The Elf-Lord's sharp ears were pricked, listening for the faintest of sounds.  A soft rustle had him lunging toward a large cabinet with a fierce cry, blade extended to smash apart the latch and send the door bouncing against the wall.  But it was not an orc that emerged.  Instead, the strident wail of a frightened child issued from the newly opened cupboard.

Elrond turned startled eyes toward Glorfindel, almost as if to confirm that he really was hearing what his ears were telling him he heard.  Glorfindel could do no more than blink owlishly back at him.

The change in Elrond's demeanor was as sudden as it was surprising.  He went from warrior to father in the blink of an eye.

"Hush now, _tithen pen_," he said softly.  "I must have frightened you very badly.  Will you come out so that I may apologize?  It's alright, no one will hurt you."

The gulping sobs from within the cupboard quieted for a moment.  "_N-nana?  Ada?_" a small voice quavered.

Elrond swallowed hard.  That little voice sounded so very young.  And if the small one's parents lived in this house, which had clearly been invaded and looted by orcs...  The Elf-Lord feared that there would be no answer to that plaintive call.

His unhappy reverie was abruptly cut short when the child in the cupboard moved again and peeked cautiously out into the kitchen.  Elrond stood transfixed and stared into the bluest eyes he'd ever seen.

Glorfindel watched as child and warrior stared at each other for a moment.  Then the child took in Elrond's battle-scarred appearance and dove back into the cupboard, sobbing once again.

"Oh, now that won't do at all," Elrond murmured and reached into the dark cabinet, drawing the struggling, whimpering child out into the light.  "Well, who are you?" he asked softly, though the dark-haired child would likely be unable to answer him.

The elfling was very young, scarcely old enough to talk and probably not yet able to walk unaided.  Now that Elrond had the child out and cradled against his chest, he could tell that it was a boy.  His fingers contacted a scrap of parchment as he tried to shift the child into a more comfortable position against his breastplate.

Elrond frowned and carried the squirming elfling into the common room.  He leaned down toward Glorfindel.

"There is something pinned to his clothing.  Can you reach it?"

"Aye, I can.  It looks like a note."

Glorfindel detached the missive from the boy's clothing.  It was scribbled in hasty Sindarin, and read:

The orcs close in ever faster, and I fear we will not live out the night.  Please, take care of our son.  We have done our best to shield him from the coming invasion, and we will defend this house to our last breaths.  His name is Eledril.  When he is old enough, please tell him that his Naneth and Adar love him very much.

_                ~~Carawen & Breghûn_

Glorfindel swallowed hard.  "They must have locked him in the cupboard, hoping he'd be quiet until the fighting was done," he said quietly.  "Ai, I cannot imagine how difficult..."

"NONONONO!!" Eledril shouted, interrupting Glorfindel's musings.

The child and Elrond seemed to have arrived at a stalemate, the boy pushing both hands determinedly against Elrond's chest and scowling thunderously at him, the elf trying to keep hold of the child and prevent him from squirming loose entirely.

"So, mighty warrior," Glorfindel said with a grin, "what are you going to do now?"

Elrond started to respond, but was interrupted by a distant cry of _"Yrch!!"_

"Go muster my troops, apparently," Elrond responded dryly.  "Here, you take him."

"What?!  Me??  But..."

"Glorfindel, you are not going anywhere, and neither is this little one.  Not until it is safe.  I doubt any orcs will come back in here, so it's a logical place to leave you both.  For goodness' sake, it's only a baby, not a Balrog."

"But I don't know what to do with a child!" Glorfindel protested.

"You taught all my children," Elrond pointed out reasonably.

"I never met any of them until they were out of the nursery," Glorfindel objected.

Elrond, however, had stopped paying attention.  He was speaking to the child, instead.  "Eledril, this is Glorfindel, and he's going to take care of you until I get back.  He's a good elf, and he will not hurt you."

Eledril looked patently unconvinced, but Elrond set him down on Glorfindel's uninjured leg before hurrying out the door to go lead his army.

Glorfindel stared at the child, at a complete loss.  Eledril stared back at the unfamiliar, golden-haired warrior and burst into tears.

Glorfindel blinked.  "Now, don't do that," he tried.

The elfling cried harder.

Stifling an oath, Glorfindel struggled the rest of the way out of his breastplate and tried picking Eledril up and cradling him against his good shoulder.

The child wailed disconsolately, tiny fists clenched in Glorfindel's tunic as he finally seemed to understand that his _Nana_ and _Ada_ were not coming to rescue him from these strange elves.

Something in Glorfindel's chest cracked and then shattered as he held the sobbing child helplessly.  He looked longingly at the open door, wishing there was someone outside who would come if he called for assistance.

But he was painfully aware, as was the child in his arms, that no one was left to come.

*****


	3. Battles Won

Headers, author's notes, disclaimers, and translations may be found in chapter 1.

*****

Elrond dragged a hand through his messy hair and sighed wearily.  At long last, it seemed that the last of the orcs had been defeated.  It had been a large company of them that had moved into the area, which worried him.  He made a mental note to upgrade the defenses in these outlying areas and increase patrols.  And perhaps also see if he could extend Vilya's protective shield out over the hamlets on the edge of his realm.  He watched the grim work of his warriors as they piled orc corpses into great heaps to be burned.

He took stock of the situation.  Five dead, and it would be a heartwrenching job to tell their families back in Imladris.  There were many more casualties from those who'd lived in the villages.  They had fallen before help arrived.  The injured were numerous, but fortunately none were gravely serious.  They would be well on their way to healing by the time the large war party returned home.

Thinking of the injured reminded him of Glorfindel, and he spared a thought for his second and the child they'd found.  He wondered how the warrior had managed with his small charge.

He was not able to answer his own question until several hours later, when the whole party and its wounded and dead had been mobilized back towards Imladris.  Elrond brought the column to a halt outside the ransacked house where he'd left his friend.

"My lord?" one of his lieutenants queried.

"Lord Glorfindel was injured during one of the first battles.  I left him here along with an orphaned child we discovered hiding in the house," Elrond explained.

"The Captain lives, then?" the lieutenant asked with a smile.  "I had feared for him when we marched without him at your right hand."

Elrond grinned, sharing the young elf's relief.  He dismounted and hurried into the house.

"Glorfindel?" he called.

"Shhh!" came the admonishment from the common room.

Elrond's eyes adjusted to the dim light after exiting the bright sunshine outside.  He couldn't repress a chuckle.

Glorfindel reclined drowsily on the sofa, his golden tresses released from the kerchief he normally wore to keep them restrained under his helm.  Said kerchief had clearly been sacrificed to give little Eledril dry smallclothes.  The elfling was sprawled out on Glorfindel's broad chest, sleeping soundly.

"See?" Elrond said quietly.  "I told you it wouldn't be that bad."

Glorfindel gently stroked the pale child's back.  "He wore himself out weeping, poor thing.  I think he finally realized that his _Naneth_ and _Adar_ are gone."

Elrond ghosted a gentle hand across Eledril's brow.  "He sleeps peacefully, and his dreams are untroubled.  I think we can move you both, now."

Elrond quickly splinted Glorfindel's broken leg with the Gondolin warrior's own sheathed sword and dagger.

"That will do until we get home.  I'll be able to heal it fully once we are back to the Halls of Healing."

Glorfindel shifted his leg gingerly and nodded his approval.

Elrond called a soldier in to help Glorfindel and saw to the sleeping child, himself.

"We've reserved a spot in the wagons for you," Elrond said to his seneschal.

"Oh, but I'm sure I could ride..."

"Absolutely not," Elrond cut him off.  "That beast you call a mount is unharmed and tethered to one of the supply wagons.  He'll do just fine without you for the next day or two, and you need to rest that leg, don't forget."

Glorfindel snarled, but allowed the young soldier to help him into a wagon and get his leg properly supported and cushioned for travel.

"Besides," Elrond added, "somebody needs to care for the little one until we get home."

"But...," Glorfindel started as Elrond laid Eledril across his chest.

"He likes you, and probably trusts you, to a certain extent," Elrond said.  "And he can't ride either, so you might as well take care of him."

"Oh, very well," Glorfindel grumbled.  He looked down at the head of baby-fine, ebony hair pillowed on his chest and couldn't suppress a smile.  Children weren't so bad when they were sleeping.  Perhaps he could do this, after all.

*****

tbc...


	4. Peace Offerings

Headers, author's notes, disclaimers, and translations may be found in chapter 1.

*****

"Elrond!!" came the bawled entreaty from the lead wagon.

Elrond resisted the urge to groan and nodded to the lieutenant who, for the nonce, rode in Glorfindel's place, a signal to lead the column.

The Elf-Lord, himself, turned to ride back to the wagon carrying Glorfindel, Eledril, and a few other wounded elves.

The little elfling was crying loudly, obviously terribly upset about something.

"What is it, Glorfindel?" Elrond asked over the racket.

"He's crying," Glorfindel said bluntly.

"I can see that," Elrond said with exaggerated patience.

"Why do you suppose he's crying?"

"Come now, Glorfindel, there are only a few reasons babies cry.  They're either hurt..."

"...he's not..."

"Or tired..."

"...just woke up..."

"Or wet..."

"...he's dry; I checked..."

"Or hungry..."

"Aha, a prize for the Elf-Lord!"

"So feed him."

"Feed him what, exactly, in the middle of a war party full of males, with nary a wet-nurse in sight?"

Elrond blinked.  "Oh dear, I hadn't thought of that."

"Obviously," Glorfindel said dryly, bouncing Eledril up and down in an attempt to placate the child.

"He looks to be of an age to be eating some solid food.  Perhaps some lembas, soaked in enough water to make it very soft?"

And so it was that Glorfindel of Gondolin found himself crumbling lembas into a drinking goblet and dousing it in fresh water.  The war party had been hastily assembled, and it had not been expecting a protracted absence from Imladris, so all they had with them were trail rations, supplemented by whatever small game the archers could bag as they marched.  As such, dishes and silver had not been on the list of necessary items to pack.  So, once he deemed the lembas-paste soft enough for a nearly-toothless mouth to manage, he could do little else but scoop the sodden stuff onto his fingers and encourage the little elfling to nibble at it from there.

As all younglings are wont to do when first trying something new, Eledril screwed up his small face and took a tiny bit, mouth working furiously at the unfamiliar substance.  As the taste finally registered, he smiled, evidently finding it acceptable.

"Good!" he said decisively and clapped his hands.  He seized Glorfindel's fingers and made a good effort at devouring them to get at the sweet paste on their tips.

"Here now!" Glorfindel exclaimed as a couple of newly-cut teeth sank into the pads of his fingers.  "I still need those, you little monster."  He dipped his fingers back into the goblet and offered them to Eledril, who licked them clean in seconds.

By that time, the little boy had gotten the gist of how food was to be obtained, so he plunged his own hands into the goblet and then tried to stuff them both into his mouth at once.

"Not so fast, _tithen pen_," Glorfindel chuckled, pulling gently on one small wrist to help Eledril eat a bit more slowly.

Eledril, however, misinterpreted the gesture, and twisted in Glorfindel's grasp until elf and child faced each other.

"Share?" he piped, smiling brightly and offering one soggy fist to the golden warrior.

"Er...," Glorfindel fumbled, curiously spellbound by the first expression of genuine happiness the elfling had exhibited since he'd been found.

Eledril took that as a "yes" and smushed the lembas-paste against Glorfindel's mouth and chin, giggling delightedly.  "Share!" he crowed.

Glorfindel spluttered as the other wounded elves in the wagon started laughing helplessly.

Eledril sat expectantly in Glorfindel's lap, clearly waiting for something.

"Uh, thank you?" Glorfindel guessed.

Eledril beamed and giggled before dunking his hand back into the goblet and shoving more lembas-paste into his mouth.  He reached up and patted Glorfindel's cheek, leaving a sticky handprint behind.

Glorfindel watched the elfling eat with a silly smile on his face.

*****

tbc...


End file.
